For having nearly finished his journey from the head of Fundy
Bay, he had that morning prepared himself to appear what he was in Fort
St. John--a man of good birth and nurture. His portables were rolled
tightly in a blanket and strapped to his shoulders. A hunting-knife and
two long pistols armed him. His head was covered with a cap of beaver
skin, and he wore moccasins. Not an ounce of unnecessary weight hampered
him.

The booming of cannon had met him so far off on that day's march that he
understood well the state of siege in which St. John would be found; and
long before there was any glimpse of D'Aulnay's tents and earthworks,
the problem of getting into the fort occupied his mind. For D'Aulnay's
guards might be extended in every direction. But the first task in hand
was to cross the river. One or two old canoes could be seen on the other
side; cast-off property of the Etchemin Indians who had broken camp.
Being on the wrong bank these were as useless to him as dream canoes.
But had a ferryman stood in waiting, it was perilous to cross in open
day, within possible sight of the enemy. So the soldier moved carefully
down to a shelter of rocks below the falls, opposite that place where
Van Corlaer had watched the tide sweep up and drown the rapids. From
this post he got a view of La Tour's small ship, yet anchored and safe
at its usual moorings. No human life was visible about it.

"The ship would afford me good quarters," said the soldier to himself,
"had I naught to do but rest. But I must get into the fort this night;
and how is it to be done?"

All the thunders of war, and all the effort and danger to be undertaken,
could not put his late companions out of his mind. He lay with hands
clasped under his head, and looked back at the trees visibly leafing in
the warm Easter air. They were much to this man in all their differences
and habits, their whisperings and silences. They had marched with him
through countless lone long reaches, passing him from one to another
with friendly recommendation. It hurt him to notice a broken or deformed
one among them; but one full and nobly equipped from root to top crown
was Nature's most triumphant shout. There is a glory of the sun and a
glory of the moon, but to one who loves them there is another glory of
the trees.

"In autumn," thought the soldier, "I have seen light desert the skies
and take to the trees and finally spread itself beneath them, a material
glow, flake on